


Love's Violent Delights

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Prison, Commentary on Omega Politics, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, References to Knotting, Tattooed Derek Hale, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.





	Love's Violent Delights

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created from a prompt given. Big love and gratitude goes out to Andrianne. I hope you enjoy this fic, and I managed to write something that you enjoy.
> 
> Best! <3

It had been a few months since Stiles was allowed to see his dad. He knew what everyone said about their situation.

John was dangerous. He took matters into his own hands when the corruption overtook the police department. And after years under his control, the streets of Beacon were safer. But people wanted him out of the way, and it all came crashing down when he was arrested.

People blamed John for having a sympathetic heart for Omegas. Blamed Stiles for being a delinquent, for changing his father's perspective on things.

But the truth was, Omegas were shunned in society. They were given barely any rights. And the ones who protested were always silenced first.

And that was more than evident when Stiles’ future was decided for him.

Stiles tried to argue that he could take care of himself once his father's guilty verdict was read. But the laws were clear cut for unmated Omegas—Stiles had to have an Alpha guardian.

And he didn't get a choice in the matter.

That was why, months after John's incarceration, Stiles was sitting across a table in the visiting section of a prison ward, avoiding eye contact with his father.

“They said it wasn't admissible,” Stiles explained to his dad's silence.

“I'm going to tear him apart,” John seethed.

“Dad,” Stiles started, looking up at his father. He knew his dad would have a better view of his black eye now. “There's nothing—”

“Don't you say that,” John uttered. “There is always something to be done.”

Stiles sighed, sagging in his chair. “He won't let me date anyone,” he finally confessed. He looked down at his hands, picking at his fingernails for a distraction. “I'm scared for my heat,” his voice croaked. He decided to leave out the threats Cliff made.

He knew they weren't just threats though when he hacked into Cliff's computer to find something to blackmail him with. He felt sick when he found frequented searches for Omega breeding posts in Cliff's browsing history. He barricaded himself in his room that night after finding the receipt for more than one Omega heat restraint purchased.

John took Stiles’ hand in his own, looking his son over. “Parrish will look after you. He'll get you to a heat clinic—”

Stiles shook his head. “He's been transferred out of state—all your loyal deputies were.” He looked up at his father. “I'm all alone. And short of killing this bastard, I can't get away from him. He wasn't even going to let me visit today if you hadn't asked Whittemore to set this up.”

John's teeth clenched, his jaw twitching in anger. “When is your heat?”

Stiles partially shrugged. “Supposed to be next month.” They were never predictable, always changing and happening at the worst times, usually when Stiles wasn't paying attention to his health.

“I'll fix this, Stiles,” John promised.

“Dad—”

“I will,” John firmly reassured Stiles.

Stiles silently nodded, an attempt to convince himself that his father was right, despite the fact that Stiles had stopped believing all could be fixed a long time ago.

~*~

John thought about it multiple times. He had no plan. There was nothing he could do for Stiles from the inside of his prison cell.

He sat against his cell wall, his knee grazing against the bars. He fiddled with the worn photo in his hands, his gaze focused on the image.

It was a picture of Stiles and Claudia, one of the last ones of Claudia before she grew too sick. Stiles was only 10.

With Stiles’ innocent face smiling at him, John felt that he failed him. That he failed Claudia.

He knew Cliff was far more corrupt than he had ever been. He put criminals in the ground, he didn't give them a chance to wiggle their way out of consequences, fattening his pockets with their wealth like Cliff had. He didn't mingle with them either. Whoever let Cliff be a substitute Alpha guardian was lacking in morality—and common sense.

“Hale,” John called from the side of his cell as he let the photo loosely hang from his hand.

There was a small rustling, the sound of someone rising out of bed before the telltale noise of a body sitting against the wall separating their cells.

“John,” a familiar voice answered.

“I need you to do me a favor,” John sighed.

“I'm gone tomorrow,” he noted.

“I know,” John answered. “I need your help, Derek,” he honestly explained. He liked Derek, he really did. Especially now, knowing the rumors were true about him. “I need someone to protect my son while I'm stuck in here.”

Derek was silent for a beat. “Protect him from what?”

“From a failing system,” John answered. He folded the photo of Stiles and Claudia in half, reaching his hand outside the bars to offer the photo to Derek.

Derek leaned towards the bars, taking the photo from John. He turned the folded object to see the written address on the back of it. “Any requests?”

“Make sure that piece of shit regrets ever putting a hand on my boy,” John instructed him.

Derek had seen how furious John was after seeing his son. He had thought it would have been a melancholy sorrow that took over John after seeing his child. But instead, John had been unapproachable afterwards.

“Noted,” Derek sighed.

~*~

There had been a lot of rumors surrounding Derek and the reasons he was incarcerated.

But none of them reflected the truth.

Derek had violently beat a man into a coma.

The judge barely cared that he was 15. The jury didn't care that his ‘victim' raped and brutalized over a dozen Omegas. The press didn't care when they painted him an angry Alpha from a prominent pack.

It was why John listened to Derek. He understood the inherent breaks in the system. And he knew Derek had tried to protect his sister from a known predator. He knew Derek and his family had been failed by those meant to protect them.

John saw Derek for the force he was—a force meant for good.

~*~

Stiles weakly turned his head, his ears still ringing even now. His head was pounding, his mouth dry as he took another sip of water. His eye was swollen and difficult to see out of, thanks to Cliff. He tried to keep his split lip from cracking more, wiping away any blood that trickled down with his knuckle. He vision was no longer foggy which was an improvement. He couldn’t even remember what he said that made Cliff react—he hardly said anything some nights, and it was always the same.

Cliff would fly into a rage, and then Stiles would end up on the floor, bruised and bloody.

Stiles’ heat was coming, that much he remembered being such a sensitive subject. He had been determined to go to a clinic to avoid Cliff. He remembered trying to leave, but of course Cliff wouldn’t let him out of his grasp. That was when the first punch happened.

Stiles had been unconscious when his savior arrived. He had awoken to a figure kneeling over Cliff. He watched as the man continued to beat Cliff with sharp precision and fury. He only stared at the man when his punching ceased, slowly sitting up when the man came over to him.

“Your father sent me,” the stranger gruffly stated, as if it was reason enough to Stiles to not be afraid of him.

Stiles stared at the stranger’s gloved hand that was offered to him. He noticed it wasn’t the hand the stranger had used to beat Cliff beyond recognition. He accepted the stranger’s extended offer, standing with difficulty before swaying on his feet some. He was lightheaded, his stomach twisting and growling with the reminder that he hadn’t eaten yet. He stared at the stranger, watching the man turning and pacing around the room in order to pour a liquid from the canister in his hands.

Stiles’ nose crinkled at the smell of gasoline. He followed the stranger outside, no protest on his lips as he pieced together what was happening. He startled forward when the stranger took out a lighter to ignite the rag in the bottle. “Wait,” he croaked out, his throat hoarse from his screams earlier. He knew it was stupid to scream—no one ever did anything, and it only made Cliff angrier.

The stranger turned to look at Stiles. “You’ll get the insurance from it,” he explained.

Stiles shook his head. “Let me throw it,” he corrected the stranger’s assumption that he cared. “Then get me out of here.”

Something in the stranger’s face twitched with the recognition that the words were an order. But it wasn’t annoyance or anger, not like how Cliff’s face looked when Stiles talked back.

It was intrigue.

The stranger offered the bottle up to Stiles, waiting for the younger man to take hold of it before bringing out his lighter. He took a step back once the rag was lit.

Stiles contemplated the weight of the bottle—what it would mean if he threw it into the house, with Cliff still inside. Arson. Homicide.

Justice.

The glass shattered against the patio’s floorboards, a fire roaring to life the moment it made contact with the gasoline.

Stiles stumbled a step backwards, watching as his childhood home started to burn down. A chill ran through him as he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m cold,” he thoughtlessly stated, a shiver cutting through his words.

The stranger shrugged out of his leather jacket, moving to place it on Stiles’ shoulders in order to accommodate him. “Let’s get going.”

Stiles turned to look at the stranger, noticing for the first time the camaro that was parked at the end of the driveway. “What’s your name?”

The stranger paused at the driver’s side door, turning to look at Stiles. “Derek.”

~*~

Stiles wrapped Derek’s leather jacket around himself even tighter. He felt colder than he had when first climbing into the vehicle. He wondered if it was his adrenaline wearing off. He watched the scene play out before him through the windshield.

Derek flipped his wallet open, counting the money leisurely as he ignored the man behind the counter talking to him. Whatever amount Derek put down on the counter was enough to stop the man talking dead in his tracks. Derek put his wallet away as he waited for the man to take the cash in hand, easily picking up the key tossed carelessly onto the counter.

Stiles knew why Derek hadn’t let him get out of the car. He was a battered Omega, accompanied by an Alpha late at night, to stay in a motel room paid for with untraceable cash. A good person would call the cops. Though, Stiles doubted there was a good person left to act.

Stiles was silent when Derek got back into the car, looking down and avoiding eye contact with the nosy motel owner staring at him through the check-in window. He shrunk into Derek’s leather jacket even more.

Stiles felt like he was on autopilot when the climbed out of the car, looking at the numbered door in front of them. He walked behind Derek, trying to keep from anyone seeing his face. He lingered by Derek when the other man stopped by the camaro’s trunk to retrieve a duffel bag.

Derek threw the duffel bag over his shoulder, the key jingling some in his other hand. He ended up fiddling with the key in the lock, finally getting the door open with a bang of his hand against the doorknob. He pressed the door open with an outstretched arm, a gesture for Stiles to go in first as he leaned himself into the door.

Stiles slipped by Derek, conscious of the older man’s scent for the first time.  _ Alpha _ . He had thought Derek had been one when first seeing him, but he couldn’t be certain—not when Derek obeyed his order to let him throw the molotov.

Stiles moved to sit on the edge of the closest bed. He sat for a while, unsure what to think or do. He grabbed a handful of Derek’s jacket, pulling it tight once again. He needed to be grounded.

Derek closed and locked the door behind them, walking by Stiles to check out the bathroom. He tossed the duffel bag onto the empty bed before making his way into the bathroom. He pulled one of the folded towels from the closet, placing it on the counter top before turning the shower on hot. He walked back into the room, not at all surprised to see Stiles still sitting motionlessly on the bed.

“You should take a shower,” Derek finally stated.

Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, staring blankly at him.

“It may make you feel better,” Derek offered. “Maybe even warm you up.”

Stiles finally nodded, standing up and walking into the bathroom.

“I’ll pull some clean clothes out for you,” Derek added.

Stiles lingered by the door for a moment. “I guess we forgot to pack a bag, huh,” he hollowly stated. “Too late now,” he added as an afterthought before he closed the door.

Derek noticed that Stiles left the bathroom door partially open, wondering if he did it out of habit or fear. He turned his attention to the duffle bag, opening the zipper to dig out some comfortable clothes for Stiles to change into. He pulled his phone out of his pocket after he found a pair of sweatpants and plain t-shirt he was sure would fit Stiles comfortably. He started to dial the guard’s number John had given him.

~*~

Stiles stayed in the shower longer than he had originally planned to. His cuts stung with the hot water, but it cleared away the pain and ache in his eye. He was reluctant to get out of the shower despite how tired he was.

Stiles dried himself off quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist. He saw the folded clothes on the counter, realizing that Derek must have reached through the door to put them there. He reached an unsure hand out to unfold the shirt, holding it up to see that it would fit him—albeit, a little big. He dressed quickly, feeling warmed by the clothes.

Stiles opened the door, seeing Derek’s back facing him. He stared at the large tattoos covering Derek’s skin, flawless black and white ink creating different images. He could see the triskelion between Derek’s shoulder blades, and just below, a large tattoo of a buck and wolf mirroring one another.

The bust of a wild buck graced the side of Derek’s back, its head rearing back with vines wrapped around it, arrows lodged in the buck’s throat and heart. Mirroring the buck was a wolf, its head arched back in a howl, nightshade blossoming beside it. Large letters arched over Derek’s shoulder blades, spelling out a Latin phrase Stiles was sure he had seen before.

_ Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat _ .

It was the Hale pack’s motto.

Suddenly, Derek’s actions made a lot more sense.

Hales valued Omegas. They were one of the only well established packs that still did. And nothing was more true than when Talia Hale’s eldest son had been convicted for beating another Alpha into an inch of their life for assaulting an Omega.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put the clothes in the bathroom,” Derek stated without looking back at Stiles. He rose from the bed, turning to look at Stiles.

Stiles looked at Derek, slightly surprised that he was partially unclothed. He had yet to be alone in a room with a partially dressed Alpha. He knew he was supposed to be intimidated by the idea, but all he felt was a strange sense of calm—safety. He wondered if it was because Derek saved him from Cliff.

“I didn't mind,” Stiles finally answered.

Nudity had never bothered Stiles. He had been in locker rooms all throughout high school, but the administration tended to separate Omegas from Alphas and Betas after a few incidents occurred. If the rape of more than one Omegas could be categorized as “incidents”. Their cases were always covered up or transitioned to victim blaming.

It was why Stiles tended to avoid changing in locker rooms. He didn't care if others disrobed around him, as long as they left him alone.

Stiles blinked a few times when he realized Derek was standing in front of him. He had zoned out, staring blankly at Derek's chest for several moments before actually registering anything. He looked at Derek's hand, seeing the cell phone he was offering him.

“Your father will be calling in a few minutes,” Derek explained as he handed his cell phone to Stiles.

Stiles looked down at Derek’s cell in his hand, turning the small device. There was nothing special about it—nothing personal. He looked up at Derek, watching the older man heading towards the bathroom. “You don’t think I’m going to call the cops?”

Derek snorted out a laugh as he paused in the bathroom’s doorway. “If you wanted to inform the cops about what happened, you would have stayed with the house,” he answered, moving into the bathroom.

Stiles stared at the bathroom door, listening to the shower head turn on. He was curious about Derek. He looked down at the phone when it started ringing.

“Hello?” Stiles greeted as he brought the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, kiddo,” John's voice answered through the speaker.

“Dad,” Stiles sighed out in relief, his body slumping down to sit on the edge of the bed. It was so good to hear his dad’s voice—a reassurance that going with Derek was the right choice.

“I can't talk long,” John explained. “Everything okay?”

Stiles laid back on the bed, his body sprawled over the comforter as he stared up at the ceiling. “A little wear and tear,” he softly answered. “But I'm with Derek now.”

John was silent for a few beats. “You're going to have to keep moving now,” he finally replied.

“We have a head start, but yeah I know,” Stiles answered. “He was waiting for my heat, dad,” he finally admitted. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought about what could have happened. “He was going to— I tried to leave and he—” he closed his eyes against the panic.

“Where is he now?” John's voice was low and gravelly, as if he was holding back a hidden rage.

“One way trip,” Stiles hollowly replied.

“Good,” John answered. A muffled voice said something to John. “I need to go, Stiles. Stay with Derek, he'll keep you safe.”

“I will,” Stiles answered. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you, too, kiddo,” John replied.

Stiles stared down at the phone for awhile after his father hung up. He clutched the cell phone against his chest as he curled up on his side. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing calm and even as he remembered a better time.

~*~

It was dark and rainy when Stiles’ heat started.

It had been too long since Stiles was expecting his heat to come along. His stress was out of control, and it didn’t help when his hormones fell into chaotic levels of disarray.

They were making their way across the country, heading to New York to meet up with Derek’s pack. Stiles knew they couldn’t fly, the moment his identification pinged there would be police officers waiting for them at the airport terminal.

Stiles had agreed to meet Derek at the bank, knowing that Derek was withdrawing more money from his apparently endless trust fund. He didn’t asked Derek any questions, knowing that there was no way he could contribute to their expenses. He felt guilty even taking any money Derek offered—though he never had to ask Derek for anything.

Stiles had stopped at the pharmacy, picking up a pain suppressor for Omega heats. It helped keep Stiles clear, taking away any cramps and deliriousness that plagued him. He ignored the look the pharmacist gave him, knowing that everyone thought the same of an Omega who didn’t suffer for the sake of a “pure” heat.

Stiles ducked passed a few Betas who barged in the pharmacy, clutching the plastic bag in his hand as he hurried out the sliding doors. He bumped and fell to the side when he collided with someone.

“Woah there,” a sultry voice uttered in warning, the owner’s lips way too close to Stiles’ ear.

Stiles startled at the pair of hands touching his shoulders, shoving the person away from him on instinct.

“Careful, Omega,” the stranger chastised him.

Stiles glared at the man, annoyed with the way he spoke down to him.

“Now that's a look,” the stranger commented as he turned to fully face Stiles. “You should try smiling more,” he commented.

“Go to hell,” Stiles angrily snapped at him, turning to go back down the street to where he planned on meeting Derek.

“Hey,” the stranger called after Stiles.

Stiles ignored the man, walking faster as he headed further down the street. He was scared when a hand roughly grabbed him, yanking him backwards. He shoved at the person grabbing him, determined to get out of the man’s hold. He yelped in pain when his back collided with the brick wall, just on the edge of the alley leading off the sidewalk.

“Now that wasn't nice,” the stranger seethed, his eyes bleeding red.

Stiles felt stupid for not realizing he was an Alpha. He winced when the Alpha tightly gripped his chin, forcing him to look up at the man.

“You need to show your betters more respect, Omega,” the Alpha warned. “Maybe you're better suited for screaming instead of smiling.”

Stiles twisted as he struggled to get out of the Alpha's hold.

“Just because you're an Alpha doesn't make you my better,” Stiles huffed out in pain when the guy's claw scraped just under his jaw.

“You're a mouthy little bitch,” the Alpha scoffed. “Might actually be fun to teach you a lesson.”

Stiles stomped his heel down into the Alpha's foot, using the distraction to twist away from his grip. He stumbled some, more than relieved that he managed to fall out of the alley. He felt a warmth spread through his belly when a pair of familiar arms caught and steadied him. He smelt the leather and earthy scent he had grown used to comforting him as he fell asleep.

Stiles looked up at Derek, unbelieving that it was his luck to thank for Derek's arrival. He leaned back against Derek's chest, settling into Derek's arms when he saw the red flickering Derek's irises between colors. In those few seconds, he was confident Derek would do whatever he asked.

“Fucking bitch,” the stranger angrily growled as he turned to follow after Stiles. He gave a pause when he saw Derek.

“Careful,” Derek warned the other Alpha, the barest hint of fangs peering out from behind his lips. “Wouldn't want to injure yourself any further.”

“He's got a mouth on him,” the Alpha countered, as if it was sufficient enough proof that he was right to lay a hand on Stiles.

To most Alphas, it would have been more than enough. Derek wasn't most Alphas, though.

“His mouth is just fine,” Derek slowly started, his voice gravelly with an unspoken threat.

Stiles glowered at the man, confident about his safety in Derek’s arms.

“Filthy Omega lover,” the Alpha huffed in disgust as he turned to leave them.

Stiles tightened his hold on Derek’s arm, preventing the other man from starting a fight. “Let him go—he’s not worth the hassle.”

~*~

Stiles didn’t hesitate with stripping out of his clothes while Derek was in the shower. He felt as if he was going insane with how much he wanted Derek’s hands on him. He couldn’t deny his Omega instincts going crazy with Derek’s grandstanding. He was thrumming with adrenaline and desire.

It was primal instinct that took over Stiles’ rational thinking—all he could focus on was Derek’s strength as an Alpha.

Derek was wearing a pair of sweatpants, the pulled string doing nothing to prevent the pants from hanging low on his hips. He looked on edge, as if he was strung tight from the previous encounter. He lingered in the doorway as he looked at Stiles.

Stiles had settled naked on the bed, waiting for Derek to come back out. He wanted to be clear about what he wanted, and nothing seemed more logical at the moment than to disrobe completely.

“This is … surprising,” Derek commented, his eyes taking in the sight of Stiles’ nude body—bared for him.

“My heat is happening,” Stiles plainly stated. He saw the flicker in Derek’s eyes—his Alpha spark. “They’ve always been … agony, really. I’ve never spent it with someone, but it’s supposed to help,” he reasoned.

Derek closed the gap between them, his steps loud echoes drumming in Stiles’ ears. “You realize I’m an Alpha,” he started.

“I know,” Stiles answered.

“Which means I’ll knot you,” Derek countered. He watched as Stiles settled in the bed more.

“I want that,” Stiles firmly stated. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he knew what he wanted and who he wanted it with.

And he wanted Derek.

“I’m not your bitch, though,” Stiles bitterly claimed, the term always making his hackles rise. He hated Alphas who used that term.

Derek snorted, pulling Stiles across the bed with his firm grip on Stiles’ thighs. He could smell the sudden spike in Stiles’ arousal at being physically handled. He leaned over Stiles his hand already working on getting rid of his sweatpants. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this—about Stiles sharing his heat with him. “I think we’ve established that I’m yours.”

Stiles’ eyes flashes a cool blue, his legs falling open to allow room for Derek’s hips between them. “Well, if you’re mine … Fuck me like you mean it, then,” he ordered, dropping his back to the mattress as he laid himself bare and vulnerable for Derek to have.

~*~

Stiles had been unsure of how to move with Derek, but then found himself falling into an unknown rhythm, his moans growing even more unashamed the longer Derek touched him. He had grown numb with pleasure when Derek first knotted him, panting out pleas for Derek to not stop as he fell into the most intense feelings of his life.

Cliff had always said he’d be the first to knot Stiles—that he’d break Stiles in before any other Alpha got a turn.

Stiles was glad it was Derek.

Derek, who kneaded Stiles’ thighs in slow, firm massages to soothe out any pain or stiffness. Derek, who kissed and mouthed at any bruises that blossomed across Stiles’ skin. Derek, who held back when Stiles said it was too much too quickly.

Stiles had always been told that his pleasure wouldn’t matter—that he’d get pleasure from giving his Alpha pleasure. But Derek was different—he sought Stiles’ pleasure first.

It was good to be valued like that.

Stiles fell asleep in Derek’s arms, knowing that he didn’t have to worry about a damn thing, not with Derek there to protect him.

~*~

Stiles moaned as he stretched some, his body arching across the bed. He could tell it was morning from the sunshine cutting in through the curtains. He smiled to himself as all his aches from last night started to pulse. He knew he had bruises, but he couldn’t care—they were reminders. He pressed his fingers to his collarbone, knowing Derek left more than one hickey there. He lost track of how many times he orgasmed, but remembered clearly the feeling of Derek mouthing and biting at his throat, part of him wishing Derek had bitten down and marked him permanently.

The door handle unlatched, the soft sound of the door opening signaled someone entering the room.

Stiles turned his head to see it was Derek returning. He watched Derek simply shut the door with his boot, two disposable coffee cups in his hands. He smiled when Derek looked at him, moving to sit up. He took the cup from Derek, his hands moving to cradle the coffee. He was pleased when Derek kissed him, glad to know that they wouldn’t have any awkwardness between them now.

“You left without waking me,” Stiles stated as he watched Derek move to sit in the chair next to the table.

“You looked tired,” Derek answered. “Smelled tired, too.”

Stiles had always been annoyed when others would keep track of his chemosignals. He couldn’t help but smile now, though. He liked Derek taking care of him—it was something he never had before.

“And now?” Stiles asked.

“And now, you smell ...” Derek paused, his nostrils flaring some as he breathed in Stiles’ scent. “Sated,” he commented.

“I smell like sex and you,” Stiles replied. He knew he was right when he saw the small smirk on Derek’s lips.

They shared their coffee in peace, Stiles watching Derek reading through the newspaper as the television made senseless noise in the background.

Stiles was distracted by the stain of Derek’s shirt, his eyes unable to let it go once he saw it. “Is that … blood?” he finally asked, gesturing his head towards it.

Derek looked down at his torso, where Stiles had gestured. He frowned some, disappointed that his shirt was stained. “Damn,” he mumbled.

“Whose blood?” Stiles simply asked.

“That asshole’s from before,” was all Derek gruffly replied as he stood up, pulling his shirt off in order to find another one.

“Did you kill him?” Stiles asked.

“Knocked him unconscious,” Derek replied.

“Knocked, or beat?” Stiles pressed.

Derek paused for a moment, turning his head to look at Stiles. “Beat,” he stated.

Stiles stared back at Derek in silence, his brain processing Derek’s answer.

“Does that bother you?” Derek questioned.

Stiles shook his head. “No,” he breathlessly answered. “It … relieves me,” he chose his words carefully.

“You’re welcome,” Derek playfully replied, turning back to find another shirt.

Stiles stared at Derek, his eyes tracking Derek’s movements. Something twisted in Stiles’ stomach—butterflies swirling around. He was  _ excited  _ that Derek went back and dealt with the Alpha that touched him. It was textbook aggressive Alpha behavior, but it was for Stiles’ benefit. “Get back in bed,” he simply instructed.

Derek paused, turning to look at Stiles with a small arch of his eyebrow.

Stiles smirked a little. “Get back in bed,” he stated again with more authority.

Derek lingered for a moment before dropping his shirt to the floor, his hands undoing his belt as he watched Stiles pushed the blankets back.

Stiles was so playful in everything he did, but this was different than before. There was no shyness or joking, but instead an unveiling—more importantly, not a submission.

It was Stiles giving Derek something only he could give him.

And Derek was weak for him.

~*~

“I like it.”

They were on the highway for some time before Stiles had said it.

Stiles turned his gaze away from the window and towards Derek. “You being an Alpha.”

“It has its moments,” was all Derek offered.

“I’m not giving you a compliment,” Stiles simply replied, a sharpness in his tone. “I don’t like Alphas,” he explained.

“Could have fooled me,” Derek sarcastically answered.

“I like  _ you _ ,” Stiles countered. “And you just happen to be an Alpha.” He slid across the seat, settling his body up against Derek. He placed his hand on Derek’s knee, as he pressed his chest against Derek’s shoulder. He kissed just below Derek’s ear, knowing he had left some sort of scratch there when Derek moved to readjust his hips.

Stiles kissed, nipped, and sucked at any skin he could reach. His teeth nipped at Derek’s earlobe as his hand ran along the inside of Derek’s thigh before reaching for his jeans’ fly.

Derek tightened his hold on the steering wheel, breathing out a garbled version of Stiles’ name. “Your father,” he sharply started.

“I really don’t want to talk about my father right now,” Stiles answered in an annoyed huff, his hand loosely clinging onto its hold around the hem of Derek’s jeans. “Do you?”

“He’s not going to like—”

“He wants me safe and happy,” Stiles sharply countered. “Are you endangering me? Do I look unhappy? Because this is the safest and happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Derek sighed, briefly catching a glimpse of Stiles before looking back at the empty road in front of them. He used his free hand to take hold of Stiles’ hand on his jeans, easily guiding Stiles’ hand back towards its original destination.

Derek only swerved when Stiles lunged forward, turning their heads together for a searing kiss.

Stiles’ laughter made him smile.

~*~

Derek had always loved Christmas.

When he was growing up, he loved the countdown to the holiday. He loved the joy and energy the pack had whenever the season started. He would spend time with his mother in the kitchen, learning how to bake his different favorite treats. He would ask his sister to help him write letters for Santa and the elves. He even went as far as making his own gifts for everyone.

Derek’s joy and childlike wonder of Christmas shattered when he turned fifteen.

Something inside Derek snapped after seeing Laura laying in a hospital bed. He stared as his beaten and bruised sister just lay there, motionless as the monitors beeped out her faint heartbeat.

Derek saw his mother—his Alpha—cry tears of pain for the first time.

The eldest child of the great Alpha Talia Hale had been beaten and raped by a known predator. And no one was going to do a damn thing about it.

Derek went to the bar knowing what would happen. He tracked the Alpha, making sure he knew his route before confronting him in the back alley.

Derek remembered every moment of it, his fists beating the Alpha until his knuckles bled, his arms heavy from exhaustion. He told the police he blacked out when he attacked the other Alpha. He remembered it vividly—the justice he felt.

It was cruel, what Derek could do for his family—his pack. He loved them and the joy they gave him, and he would do anything for them.

Stiles was that for him now.

Like Christmas.

And no one was going to take that away this time.

~*~

Stiles allowed his hand to slip from Derek’s, turning his attention towards the wall of display trays with tourist info as he waited for Derek to get them a room.

Derek always used a fake name, changing it up every time to avoid whatever trail they were leaving behind. He knew he wasn’t being smart about it—that they would be caught eventually. But something about Stiles made him stupid—obedient, even, to Stiles’ every wish. He could walk away any time, but there was something that made him regret even thinking it. He loved Stiles—down to Stiles’ very core, Derek loved him, and there was no going back from here.

Stiles looked at Derek, sensing his gaze. He faintly smiled at him.

“Just the two of you?” The clerk asked in a nasally tone.

“Appears so,” Derek gruffly answered, breaking eye contact with Stiles as he turned back to the guest book, scribbling the rest of the alias down as he used his free hand to retrieve his wallet.

Stiles stared at the newspaper displayed on one of the tables near the entrance, reading the small article written about the Alpha and Omega pair making their way across the United States. He snorted, displeased with the way the article painted them as some lunatics, attacking random people.

The Alphas they stopped were the lunatics—the Omegas they helped all thanked them, time and again.

“Just an Alpha and Omega pair, huh?” The clerk pressed.

Derek was silent as he pulled out a few fifties.

Stiles turned his head as he replied, “A pretty good pair.” He disliked the sleazy look the clerk was giving him. He turned his attention back to the newspaper, still able to feel the clerk’s unfortunate stare.

The clerk made a noise of understanding, one that edged into more sexual than anything else.

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. He lowered his head closer to the man’s ear, making sure to speak low enough to sound even more menacing as he threatened, “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

~*~

Stiles clung to Derek, his arm wrapped around Derek’s shoulders as he moaned with every thrust. He tipped his head back, not caring when his head hit against the wall, his fingernails digging in tighter against Derek’s tattooed shoulder. He loudly keened when Derek lifted him up higher against the wall in order to get a better grip.

Stiles had grabbed Derek the minute they got into the room, shoving him up against the wall for a heated kiss. It quickly dissolved into Derek hoisting Stiles up against the wall, a passionate round of sex following.

Derek’s rhythm faltered as he mouthed at Stiles throat, his fangs itching to bite down—to claim. But he wouldn’t— _ couldn’t _ do that. Not without Stiles’ firm consent. But he made love to Stiles the best he could, time and again. And it was enough, just to share that with him.

Stiles moaned, his hands running through Derek’s hair. He pulled Derek’s head back, forcing the Alpha to look at him. “Do you want to knot me?” He breahlessly asked.

Derek nodded, his breath labored as he spoke, “Always— you know it’s always.”

Stiles kissed Derek filthily, rushed and desperate to have him. “Take us to the bed—I want to ride you.”

~*~

Stiles ran his fingers through Derek’s chest hair, his nails dragging over his nipple, smirking when Derek snorted out a light laugh. He looked up at Derek, unsurprised to find him resting with his eyes closed. “You know I love it, right?”

“It’s why I do it,” Derek answered without missing a beat. He opened his eyes to look at Stiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this type of dumb Alpha-brute in my whole life.”

“You enjoy being it though,” Stiles commented.

Derek sighed, nodding his head a little. “My sister once said I have the mental capacity of a child, but the strength of an ox.”

“You’re smarter than some kid,” Stiles scowled. “You make it sound like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Derek shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m not good with words—I never was,” he explained. He idly ran his hand along the curve of Stiles’ spine, up and down in a repetitive and soothing manner. “But when I’m with you, I don’t have to talk as much.” He looked at Stiles. “You make it possible for me to let go—I can be myself, and you like me for it.” He drew in a unsteady breath. “And I ended up loving you for that,” he weakly admitted.

Stiles slowly sat up, moving his body upright as he hitched his thigh over Derek’s waist. He settled in to straddle Derek, leaning over him in order to bring their lips together in a kiss. He faintly moaned when Derek’s hands settled on his hips. “I want to get married,” he stated against Derek’s lips. He shifted his hips, lifting himself in order to guide himself down onto Derek’s hardening cock. His breath hitched as he settled around Derek’s cock, breathing in deeply at the ache from earlier. “I want to be mated,” he continued to speak as he slowly raised and lowered himself, conscious of the way Derek’s hands tightened on his hips. “I want to be a family,” he moaned as his head fell back. “I want that, Derek. Please, give me that.”

Derek quickly sat up, surging forward to kiss Stiles as he circled his arms around Stiles’ waist. He flexed his hips as best he could, supporting Stiles to make his movements easier.

“Marry me?” Stiles asked, hooking his arm around Derek’s neck.

“Yes,” Derek answered with a kiss.

“Mate me?” Stiles asked again, pressing his hand over Derek’s heart.

“Yes,” Derek hoarsely answered as he looked at Stiles.

Stiles kissed Derek again. “I’ve never wanted a family before, Derek,” his raspy voice confessed against the shell of Derek’s ear. He moaned when Derek’s thrusts quickened, his own faltering as he tried to ride out the pleasure building in his spine. “But I want one with you—” he moaned when Derek’s teeth nipped at his collarbone. “I want to have our babies—please, Derek, please.”

Derek flipped them with ease, his pace quickening with Stiles’ words spurring him on as he fucked into Stiles with near mindless abandonment. His breath caught in his chest when his knot formed, the rush of blood quicker than before, triggered by Stiles’ sudden confession.

_ I love you _ .

~*~

_ I promise to love and cherish you; defend and honor you, even after my last breath. With my whole heart. _

~*~

Stiles clicked through the buttons of the jukebox, his finger idly pressing down on the arrow that let him flip through the songs. He smiled to himself, seeing more than one he remembering his mother singing with him when he was younger.

Derek sat at the diner’s countertop, spinning his coffee mug around. He watched as the tan liquid sloshed some. He smiled when he heard the music starting up, knowing it was one of Stiles’ favorites, having heard it hummed more than once.

They had been driving for hours on an empty highway.

Stiles had asked to stop, wanting a break from the cramped space of the camaro. He was still on edge since they left the last motel, fresh from another heat week spent in a rented room. This one had been worse, ending abruptly and almost feverishly, and he needed to stretch his legs some.

Stiles made a point to kiss Derek once they stopped, his hand ran along Derek’s inner thigh, smiling into their kiss when Derek released a low moan. He loved the way Derek touched him, Derek’s hands cupping the back of his neck and caressing his cheek. He slipped his tongue into Derek’s mouth, sucking on the tip of Derek’s tongue before gently biting down on his bottom lip. “I miss you already,” he admitted in a sultry tone, just before he moved to slip out of the car.

They were holding hands when they entered the diner.

Derek turned his head to watch Stiles dancing in front of the jukebox. He propped his head up in his hand, his eyes smiling as he watched Stiles’ hips swaying back and forth with rhythmed footsteps turning Stiles around in circles.

Stiles’ jeans hung low on his hips, displaying the arched v’s of his pelvis as the hem of his shirt raised up. Hickeys decorated the curve of his hips, leading down to disappear below his jeans. He smiled as he looked at Derek, hips rotating in near abortive thrusts, reminiscent of their time last night.

The diner’s entrance bell rang, signaling the arrival of more strangers.

Derek was too busy watching Stiles dancing to even hear the strangers sitting down at the countertop.

“Your regular?” The waitress boringly questioned.

“Yeah, and hurry it up,” one of the men snipped.

Derek’s attention pulled away from Stiles, noting the man’s disturbingly crass tone. He watched as another man walked by him, moving towards Stiles. He was alert, but held back when Stiles reacted with only mere annoyance.

Stiles started to slow his dancing, turning away from the guy who was approaching him. He gave Derek a lingering look.

“That’s a fine little piece of ass, huh,” the man from earlier stated.

Derek slowly turned on the stool to look at the man. His gaze slowly overlooked the man, taking in his appearance. He picked up his lit cigarette from the tray, rolling it around between his fingers as he tapped the lit end. “His name is Stiles,” he plainly stated, electing to look at the waitress behind the counter instead of the man.

The waitress looked skittish, turning away from the counter after quickly putting the beers down. She hurried off to the side, her attitude suddenly different than previously.

She was scared, and her scent showed it—an Omega registering a threat.

“Whatever Omegas are named, they’re only good for one thing,” the man laughed. “I’m guessing you’re one of those ones who don’t share. Couldn’t tame him all the way?”

Derek’s hand tightened into a fist, a forced smile on his lips when the man hit his shoulder in what was assumed mutual amusement.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Stiles suddenly snapped.

Everything went to hell after that.

~*~

“Did he rape you?”

Stiles remained silent as he refused to look at the officers.

“You’ve been missing for months, kid,” the other cop reasoned. “Your house burned to the ground, guardian dead.”

Stiles looked up at the officer. He had yet to hear someone actually say that Cliff was dead.

“Did he not tell you that he killed him?” The officer scoffed, as if he thought Stiles was the stupidest cliche he had ever had the displeasure of addressing. “You disappear and then show up several states away, with an Alpha who has a history of violence.”

Stiles pushed away the glass of water they passed across the table to him.

“I’m sure he told you that he loved you,” the other officer started in a soft tone, clearly trying to appeal to what he believed was Stiles’ more delicate Omega side. “But he used you, Stiles.”

Stiles drew in a sharp breath, wishing he could see Derek. He was worried about Derek, terrified out of his mind when the responding officers didn’t even hesitate before shooting him. They had used tasers on him when he broke out of the officers’ hold in order to get to Derek. “Is he alive?” He finally asked, looking at the officer. He knew he had tears in his eyes—but not for the reason they thought.

The officer frowned.

“He’ll live,” the other one answered.

“But he’s being guarded by officers,” the officer tried to reassure Stiles. “You’re safe now.”

Stiles let the officers think they had something. He knew they had nothing, it was why they were talking to him in the first place. He just hoped Derek knew that too.

~*~

Derek released a heavy breath, ignoring the agent who had been pressing him for a confession. His shoulder had barely healed a few hours before they finally took him from the hospital to be locked up in jail. He wondered if they were holding Stiles in the same place.

“Looks like you’ll actually stay behind bars this time, Hale,” the agent huffed.

Derek looked at the folder the woman had thrown across the table. “Is this supposed to mean something?”

The woman pursed her lips, irritated. “You know what this is,” she angrily countered.

“It looks like a classified folder that you’re showing me,” Derek deadpanned.

“You shared a cellblock with John Stilinski—your cells were next to one another for crying out loud,” she snapped, slamming her hand down on the photograph of John and Stiles at Stiles’ high school graduation. “You’re telling me it’s just coincidence that you fall off the radar the day you get out of prison, John’s son goes missing, and then we find him months later, half-way across the country with you? All after his guardian was brutally beaten then burned to death in a house fire?”

Derek looked from the picture to agent. “It’s not my fault your radar isn’t very good,” he plainly stated.

“You cocky Alpha shithead,” the agent cursed. “You think that just because you’re an Alpha that Stiles will be too scared to say anything.”

Derek blinked at the woman. “Is that what you think?”

“Stiles is already writing up a statement,” the agent replied. “You’ll be behind bars again before you can even try to backpedal half the shit he’s telling us.”

Derek didn’t have to focus on her heartbeat to know that she was lying. “I'd like my lawyer now,” was all he said.

~*~

Lydia paced back and forth, her heels clacking against the tile. “This is a fucking shit show,” she finally huffed out. She was annoyed, knowing that she owed John more than one favor, but winning Stiles’ and Derek’s cases could prove to be too much for even her.

Derek sighed. “What's the outcome?”

Lydia forcefully laughed. “Before or after you both get charged with assault and conspiracy to commit murder? On top of you being charged with murder,” she incredulously added.

“Neither of us have said anything.”

“That's it though, Derek,” Lydia sighed, moving to sit opposite of Derek.  “Neither of you said a thing, which means you're both going to be tried for as many charges they can make stick.”

Derek looked up at Lydia.

“If he gets convicted, you know what will happen to him, right? They’ll put him in general population, and count the seconds until he’s assaulted by more than half the Alphas in the joint.”

The muscle in Derek’s jaw twitched.

Lydia sighed. “You want to spare him that, then talk. Tell the truth.”

“The truth,” Derek mulled over the word, shaking his head. “The truth is ... I love Stiles Stilinski, and there isn’t a damned thing in this world I wouldn’t do for him.”

The door suddenly opened, much to Lydia’s annoyance. “I’m talking with my client,” she snapped at the officer.

“Yeah, well, his Omega is going into heat in one of the holding cells,” the officer answered her, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

Derek abruptly stood up, not caring that he knocked the chair over in the process. He was impatient when the guards placed him in handcuffs, seeing it as a pointless charade to make them feel safer. He followed them, obedient in the hopes that he would get to Stiles faster.

~*~

Derek could tell the moment he saw Stiles that he wasn't in heat. He kept quiet, allowing the officers to be tricked by Stiles’ performance as he waited for the guard to take his handcuffs off. He looked at the room, taking in the solid, blank walls around them. He knew it was a heat room, glad that he’d have this secluded location with Stiles.

“Alpha,” Stiles released a breathy sigh, reaching a longing hand out to Derek. He was sprawled across the mattress, knowing he did a good enough job acting as the guards just watched him writhe around and touch himself.

Derek pulled Stiles into his embrace, making a show of scented Stiles.

Stiles clung to Derek, waiting for the guards to shut and lock the door. He looked up at Derek, his act disappearing as he placed a kiss to Derek's lips.

“You’re not in heat,” Derek plainly stated, arching his eyebrow at Stiles.

“Nope,” Stiles slyly smiled as he nosed just under Derek’s jaw. “But they’re stupid and don’t know that.”

“And because we’re mated, they legally have to let us be together,” Derek partially smiled as he wrapped his arms around Stiles.

“And because it’s a heat room, they can only have surveillance video, not audio,” Stiles concluded. He reached his hands up to Derek’s shoulders. “Which means, you need to act all macho Alpha now,” he explained, pressing a fleeting kiss to Derek’s lips.

Derek was silent as he observed Stiles.

“Act like you’re making me your bitch,” Stiles stated, his voice tight. “Make it believable,” he added, giving Derek a stern look. “We have to sell it, baby, or none of this will work.”

“Part of the plan, huh?” Derek questioned, reaching his hands up to cup Stiles’ face in his hands.

Stiles looked at Derek. “Yeah,” he softly agreed.

“You know I don’t think like them,” Derek started.

“I know,” Stiles replied. “We’re just role-playing right now,” he answered. “I’m fine doing this, as long as it’s you.”

“Okay,” Derek heavily answered, his expression sadder than before.

“Then bend me over the bed and fuck me like they think an Alpha should,” Stiles concluded, his hands still soft against Derek’s shoulders despite his command.

~*~

It wasn’t until well past midnight when Stiles started to speak, confident that it was safe with both of them facing the wall as he laid in Derek’s arms. They were waiting for Derek’s knot to fade, making the best of their accommodations as Derek pulled Stiles into his arms before laying them down on their sides. “They think you’ve brainwashed me,” he started to explain. “They wanted to know if you’ve raped me,” he stated in a bitter tone.

Derek tightened his hold around Stiles’ waist. He felt sick thinking about any harm coming to Stiles, even if it was an asinine assumption about him. “Can we use their stupidity to our advantage?”

“Maybe,” Stiles replied, He turned his head to look at Derek. “I’m not going to let you take the fall for this, though. You know that, right?”

Derek gently kissed Stiles, prolonging the kiss as he tenderly held Stiles in his arms. “Lydia already said they’re going to try and use you to get to me,” he stated. “Some bullshit about having you transferred into general population with Alphas.”

Stiles rested his head back against Derek’s shoulder, using the Alpha’s arm as a pillow. He looked at the ceiling as he plotted out how to proceed. “They don’t have enough to convict us for all the crimes,” he explained. “They only have a hunch that it was us—they can only make the diner stick.”

Derek tried to keep from growling at the mention of the diner. He had flown into a rage the second Stiles had yelled at the man who had grabbed him.

_ “Get your fucking hands off me,” Stiles suddenly snapped. _

_ Derek turned his head towards Stiles, standing up abruptly when he saw Stiles squirming out of the stranger’s hold, hitting the man’s hands away from his ass. _

_ “Fucking pig,” Stiles spat at the guy. _

_ “Don’t be such a prude,” the guy laughed as he took a swig of his beer. _

_ “I’m not a prude for not wanting to be groped by some disgusting prick,” Stiles spat at the guy. He tried to walk around the guy in order to get to Derek, jumping to a halt when the man reached an arm out to block him. _

_ Derek started to march over to them. _

_ The Alpha at the counter grabbed Derek’s arm in order to stop him. “Let’s not get too carried away—” _

_ Derek quickly turned, grabbing the man’s arm before violently slamming the Alpha’s head against the counter. He repeated the action again, watching the blood spray from the Alpha’s nose against the countertop as the waitress ran back into the kitchen. _

_ “Hey!” The Alpha cornering Stiles dropped his beer, turning to face Derek. _

_ Stiles picked up one of the chairs to tables, slamming it into the Alpha’s back when the man started going towards Derek, not caring when it broke against the man’s shoulders. _

Stiles held Derek’s hand in his own, running his thumbs over Derek’s knuckles, the same ones that had been bloodied that day in the diner. He pressed a light kiss to Derek’s knuckles, remembering how quickly Derek had rescued him. It had been Derek that had blood on his hands when the police came, none of the cops even believing an Omega had been capable of joining the fight.

“We’re going to get out of this,” Stiles firmly stated. “And I know how to do it.” He looked at Derek. “We’re going to have to play our parts, though. And I know you’re not going to like it,” he frowned some. “And trust me, I’m not going to like my part either.”

Derek faintly snorted. “I guess we’re even then,” he replied.

Stiles hummed in agreement. He reached his arm back, fingers pushing up through Derek’s hair, his nails scraping across Derek’s scalp. “Make love to me again, and then I’ll tell you the whole plan,” he softly sighed, turning to press a kiss to Derek’s lips.

Derek hummed in agreement. “Can we never stop?” He replied, his hands moving to cradle Stiles’ hips.

Stiles smiled into their kiss. “We’ll have our hands full soon enough, that we may have no choice but to slow down,” he answered, his sure hand guiding Derek’s from his hip, and down to touch below his navel—the barely visible curve of his stomach.

~*~

This informal pre-trial was their best chance to get the case closed before a massive media storm took hold of what would be a highly publicized trial.

Everything relied on Stiles’ ability to make people believe his act.

And Stiles was breathtakingly convincing.

A force of complete reckoning.

Stiles played the fragile Omega everyone assumed he was. He spun a beautiful tale about his attraction and love for Derek starting when he met him while visiting his father. He recounted the horrors that he suffered at Cliff’s hands for daring to want to have an Alpha other than Cliff. He spoke about how Cliff was the one that would have burned him alive if Derek hadn’t come to the house that night. That they ran out of fear of being torn apart.

Derek couldn’t help but be enamored more with Stiles. He almost couldn’t even see through the falseness of Stiles’ tears. He made sure he brooded in his seat, looking the upset Alpha he was meant to be at having to hear Stiles recount the awfulness of their endeavors.

“You’re believing that Derek Hale is excused for this violence merely because he wanted to treat you like property,” the prosecutor started.

“Oh, shut up,” Lydia snapped at the prosecutor, glaring at the man. “You’re assuming he was violent in his actions of protecting his mate.”

“Some decorum, Lydia,” the prosecutor replied.

“Enough,” the judge sighed. “I agreed to this meeting in hopes that we could avoid going to a publicized trial over this,” she explained. “Not to listen to you two bickering,” she pointedly added before she locked back at Stiles. “You may continue, Stiles.”

Stiles looked from the judge to Derek. “He was protecting me,” he stated. “And our baby,” he softly added, placing a hand over his stomach.

~*~

“Hey,” Derek’s voice greeted as he leaned over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss just behind Stiles’ ear.

“Hello, stranger,” Stiles greeted him with a smile, turning his head to kiss Derek.

“I missed you,” Derek answered. “Both of you,” he noted reaching a hand down to touch the back of their son’s head. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s head, just above where his hand rested. He smiled as he watched him nuzzle into Stiles’ chest more.

“He just passed out,” Stiles replied, his hand rubbing up and down his baby’s back.

Sammy was born healthy, despite Stiles’ initial worries that something could have happened from the trauma at the diner. He was born with a little wisp of hair that matched Derek’s in shade, his little face looking like a scrunched up version of Stiles. He was perfect.

Stiles had been so happy to finally hold Sammy, knowing that without Derek coming into his life, he never would have wanted this, let alone imagined himself happy about having this. He knew it was because of Derek, feeling so proud and loved when Derek stayed with him during the delivery—unlike so many Alphas.

Derek was more a looming presence than a helpful one for the hospital staff, but Stiles was the one comforted by his presence, so it was what mattered most to the Alpha.

“Your dad says thank you for the photos,” Derek offered as he settled his body over the back of the couch, content to stay where he was if it meant he could look at both Stiles and Sammy.

“Did you tell him about bringing Sammy?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek.

Derek frowned some. “He didn’t like the idea of seeing him for the first time in a prison waiting room,” he explained.

“I want my dad to see him,” Stiles pressed, an unhappy expression pulling at his lips. He looked across the room, catching sight of the different frames hanging up.

When Derek bought the house, Stiles informed him he was going to over decorate if anything. He was pleased when Derek told him he could do whatever he wanted. Frames popped up time to time with different photographs and announcements. The one that hung in the middle of them all was the news article about Derek’s exoneration.

Stiles was amused by the article and its details about how the system had wronged an Omega who found an Alpha to save him instead. It wrapped up their story in a pretty and convenient bow that made it all too simple for the system to keep ignoring them. He thought it was hilarious how stupid they could be about it all.

Derek thought it was less funny, annoyed with the world’s assumptions that Omegas were helpless victims in need of pity instead of justice. But he was thankful their ignorance granted him a second chance at freedom with Stiles.

John’s case was coming up for a retrial, and Stiles planned on it being different this time. But he still wanted his dad to meet Sammy before he grew up too much.

“I convinced him that it would be fine,” Derek reasoned with Stiles. “He seemed pretty smitten with the idea of seeing Sammy as soon as possible, too.”

Stiles smiled at that. “I can’t believe he’s almost a year old,” he softly stated as he looked down at Sammy, watching his son wiggle around to fight staying asleep.

“Hopefully it won’t go by too fast,” Derek replied.

Stiles side-eyed Derek. “My heat is coming up, you know,” he started.

Derek turned his head to the side, looking at Stiles. “Is this you telling me you want another baby,” he inquired.

“Don’t you want one?” Stiles asked back, observing Derek with an arched eyebrow.

“You know I would love a big family,” Derek replied, looking down at Sammy. “But even if it was only us, you know I’d still be happy.”

“I know,” Stiles replied. “But I want a big family too. And you know that when we agree on something, it’s bound to happen.” He pressed a soft kiss to Sammy’s temple.

“I never stood a chance, huh,” Derek jokingly mused.

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles answered as he turned to look at Derek, reaching a hand up to pull on Derek’s shirt collar to get him closer. He smiled when Derek leaned over the couch without any resistance. “Because you love giving me anything—everything, don’t you?”

“With all my dumb Alpha brain, yes,” Derek answered.

Stiles playfully narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek amusingly snorted at Stiles’ expression. He placed a chaste kiss on Stiles’ nose. “And with my whole heart.”


End file.
